


Stages of Grief

by Nostalgic_Kitty, Sophia_Bee



Category: X-Men (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Still Have Powers, Angst, M/M, Minor Character Death, Pain
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-01
Updated: 2015-02-01
Packaged: 2018-03-10 01:57:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3272531
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nostalgic_Kitty/pseuds/Nostalgic_Kitty, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sophia_Bee/pseuds/Sophia_Bee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Charles thought the worst day of his life was when Erik walked away. He was wrong. The worst day of his life is the day Erik returns to tell him that his sister is dead.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stages of Grief

**Author's Note:**

> Written for X-Men Reverse Bang round 3. Thank you Nostalgic_Kitty for such lovely artwork. It was so inspirational. I loved the chance to explore grief and what it can do to a person or a relationship. Then you gave me EVEN MORE. Her artwork master post is [here](http://nostalgickitty.livejournal.com/889.html) if anyone would like to leave a comment. 
> 
> Original prompt: Modern day, still-powered AU surrounding Raven's death.
> 
> I appreciate all comments but I will be responding to them AFTER the super bowl. Go Hawks!

_prologue_

 

The worst day of Charles’ life is the day Erik walks away.   
  
It’s after the video. The one telling the world that mutants are the next evolutionary step. It ends up being played 24/7 on the cable news channels with every talking head expressing their opinion, and Erik’s ice blue eyes stare out at the world over and over again.

The video pushes Charles over the edge. He’s a high profile mutant activist, he’s the liaison to the president on mutant affairs, he’s a visiting genetics professor at Columbia. He cannot be sharing a bed with someone who is actively threatening terrorism.

This is what he tells Erik, pacing back and forth across the study at Westchester, running his hand through his hair, his voice snappish and angry. Erik stares at him coolly, his face carefully blank, but Charles can see that his body is thrumming with tension, and his hands are clenched into fists. He knows this man. Knows him inside out, which makes this situation even harder.

Erik counters that he has not once threatened terrorism. He has only told the truth that the world needs to hear. He sats that Charles is unrealistic to think that being a servant to the government is going to bring the change that is needed. There are still people hurting mutants; still mutants dying. 

Charles knows he’s talking about the boy. The one they found beaten and bloody, strung to a fence with ‘mutie’ written across his chest in marker. The one who froze to death on a cold Colorado night. He winces at the thought of what that boy went through, all because he was born a mutant. He knows this is why Erik made the video. When he tells him that the president intends to do something, he’s met with a deep frown followed by a huff of sarcastic laughter.

_This is a war, Charles. Don’t you see that? How many must die before you open your eyes?_

In the end, Erik leaves. He walks away, leaving Charles in the study feeling stunned and broken, and he knows it’s over. They have reached the point where the divide between them has become impassable. They will continue in life seperately now, both working for the same goal but taking a different path. Charles hopes their ideology trumping their love might feel worth it someday, but the pain he feels says differently. The pain feels endless.

The worst day of Charles’ life is the day Erik walks away.

It stays that way until the day Erik returns.

**i**

**denial**

 

“No,” Charles says in a quiet voice.

He stands before Erik, trembling hands hanging limp at his sides. He stares at the other man who stands on the threshold of the Xavier mansion, staring back at him. Their eyes are locked together despite the fact that Charles wants nothing more than to look away. Erik is wearing a long wool coat and his hair is damp from the rain. There is a look of indescribable sadness on his face.

Charles' chest clenches tightly. A lump starts to form in his throat. He noisily draws in a deep, shaky breath.

"She can’t be...I just don’t...I just don’t believe it.”

“Charles,” Erik says in a soft voice. His words are steeped in sadness. He reaches out a hand that stops just short of touching Charles on the shoulder, lingers for a long moment, suspended in the air, then drops slowly to his side. “I…”

“I just don’t believe it, I just don’t…” Charles keeps repeating, almost choking on the words, then his eyes narrow and his gaze shifts to Erik, accusing, angry. “It’s you. A trick of yours, part of some master plan. A lie.”

“Charles,” Erik repeats, this time in a pained whisper. Charles squeezes his eyes shut, hating the way Erik says his name, with so much caring, it’s almost as if he still loves him, and he can’t think that. Not now. Not when...

“She would have dodged the bullet,” Charles snaps. “She’s fast, you know. And strong. The strongest person I know. She would have known it was coming for her and just…”

"Charles..."

"It's a hoax. She made them think she's dead, she..."

“They recovered her body, Charles,” Erik says quietly, cutting Charles off. “They did tests. DNA.”

Charles blinks, his eyes wet with tears, and he knows that Erik would not lie. Not about this. He's known this since the moment he came to the door intent on telling his former lover to fuck off but stopped short when he saw how devastated he looked.

“When?” Charles asks, looking at Erik again. “When did it happen?”  
  
“Three months ago.”  
  
“She’s been dead for three months?” Charles gasps. He feels sick. How could he not know? How could she die and he felt nothing? She just slipped away and he never knew his sister was gone. Charles rubs the bridge of his nose and his eyes sting with tears.

“Emma found the files during a raid,” Erik continues, “I knew you hadn’t heard from her in a long time, that you probably didn’t know, so I came here right away."  
  
Charles swallows as he digests this information. His heart is pounding.

_Raven._

“We...she and I disagreed, and she left angry. and I was so mad at her. She wouldn’t listen. She thought the only way we could get our rights was violence, and I shouldn't have let her go but I just couldn’t do it anymore…I couldn’t….”

Charles’ voice fades away and he stares past Erik, who is still standing in the doorway of the Xavier mansion, his pale blue eyes shining with tears. Raven leaving was no different than when Erik left. The thought hurts.

“Erik…” Charles croaks out after a long while.

“Yes, Charles?” Erik asks, leaning slightly towards Charles, his face going soft.

 “I never said goodbye to her. I didn’t know I needed to. I just didn’t know….”

Charles shudders as something inside him breaks. He lets out a quiet sob and the sound seems to break some of the tension between the two men. Erik steps forward at the sound, and in one swift motion he takes Charles into his arms, holding onto him tightly. Charles lets himself slump against Erik, his wool coat damp against his cheek.   
  
“Neither did I,” Erik says softly, “neither did I.”

Charles nuzzles into Erik’s chest, and he’d forgotten how good it feels to be held by this man. He lets out a small sob from the back of his throat. It’s a quiet lament for all he’s lost.  

"I just don't believe it," Charles mumbles into Erik's coat. "I don't believe she's gone." Erik’s arms wrap even tighter around him and Charles sags against him. "Stay with me," Charles whispers, hating that he sounds like he's begging, hating that after all they've been through he still needs Erik so badly.

"I'm not going anywhere," Erik murmurs, tilting his head to lay his cheek on Charles' head, and he holds Charles so tenderly it almost hurts. There would have been a time when he would have followed those words with 'my love'.

He says nothing.

  


**ii**

**anger**

“Did you know where she was?”  
  
Erik is silent long enough for Charles to get his answer. They are sitting at the table in the mansion kitchen, the one that has been there as long as Charles can remember. Its worn surface is stained with late night snacks and spilled cups of hot chocolate, a patina of their childhood, physical evidence of their life together. If he closes his eyes he can see Raven, the first time she saw her, standing with the refrigerator open, staring at him, afraid. So afraid Charles had almost stumbled backwards from the force of it. He can see her sitting across from him one day after school, hear the way she laughed at him, sipping the tea the cook had made her, biting into a biscuit and telling him he’s old before his time. He closes his eyes.

The memories hurt. 

“Charles,” Erik starts, but Charles doesn’t let him continue speaking. His eyes snap open, angry, accusing towards the man who sits across from him where his sister should be.

“Did you tell them? Are you the one who led them to her?”

“My god, Charles,” Erik gasps, “do you think that I…”

Charles slams his fist down on the table, rattling the tea that Erik has made for him, a little sloshing over the rim of the mug, and it runs down the side, pooling around the base. Erik flinches a little but refuses to look away.  
  
“I don’t know what to think,” Charles spits out. “But you knew where she was. You knew and you never told me….”  
  
“She didn’t want to be found,” Erik says steadily. “You knew that.”  
  
“So you kept her from me? You kept her from me and now she’s dead, Erik. Dead, and I could have...I could have….” Charles feels the pain well up again, sitting like a lump in his throat and he chokes back the tears that seem to be always threatening to break through. Charles jumps up from the chair he’s been sitting in, shoving his hands into the pockets of his trousers, and turns away from Erik, not wanting him to see the pain.

“Mystique wanted some space…”

Charles pivots to look at Erik squarely in the face and he’s shaking. He clenches his fists in his pockets and he curls his shoulders inwards, as if to protect himself just before he's about to throw himself into a fist fight.

“Raven,” Charles snarls, his lip curling into a sneer, “she’s Raven. She’s not fucking Mystique. She’s my sister. Raven Darkholme.”

“Charles,” Erik says carefully, and finally he looks hurt. Charles savors the small, dark feeling of satisfaction around the fact that he has finally said something that hurts Erik.

“Never call her Mystique. Not in this house. Not in my presence.”

“Charles,” Erik says again, softly, his voice full of concern and understanding. “You can blame me all you want, but it’s what she wanted to be called.” Charles feels the cold chill of rage as it tiptoes lightly up his spine with Erik’s words

“No,” Charles hisses, his voice low and dangerous as he slowly moves closer to where Erik sits, “it’s what you convinced her she was. You took her from me, turned her against me. You did it, Erik. And now she’s dead and it’s your fault.”

Erik says nothing. He just watches Charles from where he’s sitting, his mouth pinched tight, and Charles can tell that the great Magneto, leader of the Brotherhood, wants to argue, but he says nothing. Charles takes in a deep, shaky breath, his whole body wound up tight, and the anger roars through him. He lunges forward, fisting his hands in Erik’s shirts and with strength Charles doesn’t know he has he hauls the much bigger man to his feet, pulling him close until Charles is inches from his face, his breath coming out in hot huffs and hitting Erik’s face.

“You, Erik. It all comes down to you,” Charles yells, not caring that spittle is flying from his mouth. “If you hadn’t taken her from me, she’d still be here. With me. My sister, my baby sister. She’d be here, by my side and she’d...she’d be alive.”

The last word is almost a sob. Erik reaches for Charles, his arms going around around him to pull him close and Charles starts shaking uncontrollably. He feels so helpless, so weak.

“Shhhhh…” Erik whispers in Charles’ ear. “You can hate me if it will help, Charles. You can hate me for the rest of your life, but it won’t bring her back. Nothing will bring her back.”

Charles feels the tears start again, stinging his eyes, hot on his cheeks.   
  
“I want her back,” Charles whispers, still shaking.  
  
“I do too, my love,” Erik says softly. “I do too.” He traces his fingers along Charles’ jaw, stopping at his chin, then tilts his head up and Erik kisses Charles, and Charles shudders at the touch because he’s missed it so much.

  


**iii**

**bargaining**

 

“I want to stop hurting,” Charles rasps, his lips brushing against Erik’s warm skin. He is lying with his face buried in the crook of Erik’s neck, their bodies damp from sweat, skin pressed against skin, hot and sticky. Charles thinks he should pull away, should put some distance between them, but he stays there. His breathing is ragged, their arms and legs tangled together, and Charles isn’t quite sure where he begins and Erik ends. In the back of his mind, Charles knows he’s missed this. Missed Erik’s skin, his heat, the way his body fits against Charles’, but he can’t linger on that thought.  

Erik lifts a hand and cards it through Charles’ hair, his touch so gentle it hurts. He turns his head and places a kiss on the skin just below Charles’ ear and it causes Charles to shiver. Charles lifts his head and tilts it up toward Erik.

  
“I have dreams, Erik. I want things that I’ve never wanted before, because I think it will make it all stop.”  
  
“Charles,” Erik says softly, gazing down at him.

“I want to dig into my skin, to burn it, to find a way to hurt enough that it will be more than this pain. Because it won’t stop, Erik. It won’t stop and I can’t take it. I just can’t….”

“My love,” Erik whispers, and those words should hurt. Charles should remind Erik that he left. He has lost the right to say things like that in a voice that is so heartfelt and full of pain. He doesn’t. He says nothing because nothing matters. Nothing except finding a way to stop the endless ache inside of him that the death of his sister has left. 

 

“Hurt me, Erik,” Charles says, biting at his lip a little too hard, savoring the pain it leaves, “hurt me until I scream. Until I forget.”  
  
Erik looks at him with mild alarm combined with understanding, and something else. Something Charles can’t think about. Something that they had once and it didn’t mean enough, and he knows they can’t get it back.   
  
“No,” Erik says softly, tilting his head forward to place a soft kiss on Charles’ lips, a gentle touch which is so opposite of what Charles is asking him for. Charles squeezes his eyes shut because it makes everything hurt that much worse.  “You know I won’t do that, Charles. Not for that reason.”

“There are people who will,” Charles says tersely, challenging Erik, wanting to push him into agreeing to do what Charles wants. If he ever loved him, he would help him stop this pain. “If you won’t, I can find someone…”

Erik looks at him with eyes shining with tears, then he pulls Charles tightly against him in a swift motion, crushing him to his chest and Charles feels like he’s going to crack into a million pieces with the fierceness of Erik’s embrace.   
  
“It won’t fix it, Charles,” Erik whispers, his breath hot against Charles’ ear, “you know that. You might be able to forget, but you won’t forget for long, and when you remember, the pain will be there again. She’s dead, Charles. She’s gone. This pain, it’s part of you my love. It’s Raven’s legacy, and we will both live with it for the rest of our lives.”  
  
Charles shakes.   
  
“No,” he says, “please no. There has to be a way, Erik. There has to be a way to make it stop. I have to find something I can do, something that will take away the pain.”

“There is no way,” Erik says. “I wish it were different, Charles. I would do anything to take it all from you, but I can’t. I can be here with you, but I will not hurt you Charles.”

Charles swallows. Erik is right. At least he’s here, and the knowledge that he’s not alone in this dulls the pain an incremental amount. Maybe that’s enough. Erik holds him for a long time, until the shaking has subsided and Charles slowly starts to relax. Charles takes in a deep breath, feeling the way his chest expands, then he lets out a heavy sigh and he feels his tension uncoil a little. He sinks further into Erik’s arms and the weariness that seems to mark his sadness weighs down his limbs. Charles feels his eyelids grow heavy and slowly he drifts off to sleep.

  


**iv**

**depression**

 

Grief is a heavy thing, weighing Charles down until some days he feels he can barely move.

The entire world compresses down to black and white. Charles does not return to work. The university is kind about it, his boss' voice filled with pity, and everyone tells him they understand, and that it takes time. They don’t know that that there are days that Charles cannot physically move, days when the weariness keeps him in bed, the plates of food that Erik brings staying untouched, and the only respite is sleep. Even then he can't escape the dreams. 

Then there are the days and nights when he can’t sleep.

Charles sits on the patio, staring out across the wide expanse of lawn that surrounds the house, stretching out in all directions until it ends at the line of trees. The air is chilled and Charles wraps the navy wool cardigan he’s wearing tighter around his shoulders. He stares into the distance, not seeing the morning sun creeping across the grass, chasing away the shadows of the night with its warm rays. Instead he sees himself and Raven. She is eight, he is twelve. They are running, playing a game of tag or something that Raven made up. Charles can’t remember, but he wishes he could. They run and run, laughing until their sides hurt, Charles tackling his sister, rolling over and over in the wet grass until they are thoroughly soaked and muddy, a condition that will surely bring a frown to their mother’s face. Charles closes his eyes and blinks back the tears that form in the corners of his eyes, then he brushes them away with the back of his hand. He’s so tired of crying.

Tea appears on the table next to the chair, in one of the chipped white mugs from the kitchen, the steam rising into the cool morning air. Charles smells the familiar scent of orange peel and bergamot. A quick glance tells him that it’s prepared exactly how he likes it, cream and sugar. Erik. Charles looks away from the mug, and returns to staring into the distance, trying to get back that memory that has now slipped away, resentful of the interruption that stole it from him.  

“Did you sleep at all last night?” Erik asks, his voice deep and rumbling, his hand touching Charles lightly on the shoulder, fingers lingering a little as he rubs a small circle on the fabric of the cardigan with his thumb. He asks even though he knows the answer, because if Charles had slept he would have been curled next to Erik, stealing his warmth, letting his touch sooth away the bad dreams. Charles shakes his head without turning back to look at Erik.   
  
_Erik._

It’s been three months since Erik showed up at the door with the news that Raven was dead, and as Charles sits watching the sun send her warm glow across the lawn, the chill of night still lingering in the air, it occurs to him that Erik has never left. He brings Charles tea and gently encourages him to eat. He folds Charles into his arms, whispers into his hair and soothes him to sleep. And every night he holds him when he wakes shaking from the dreams where he’s staring at Raven’s body, blood seeping from her mouth, blank eyes staring at nothing.

“You’re still here,” Charles notes almost absently, not really meaning to say it out loud. His tea still sits untouched.

Erik is worried. Erik is always worried. When Charles looks at Erik he can see the ever-present concern in his eyes. Still, Erik never says anything. He never notes that Charles is starting to get too thin, never says Charles doesn't sleep enough. Still Charles can see it in Erik's too careful movements, in the way he hovers. Erik's palpable concern, pours off him in waves and it's almost impossible to ignore.

“Where else would I be?” Erik asks, settling into a chair next to Charles. They don’t look at each other. Sometimes it’s too hard for Charles to look at Erik, to see all that he’s lost, and while he knows he can never get Raven back, Erik's presence is a neverending reminder of how much it hurts when your heart breaks. The pain of Erik leaving has never left him. It's just pushed into the background by the endless grief of losing his sister.

“I don’t know,” Charles says, gesturing vaguely towards nothing in particular. “Out there. Fighting a battle, saving mutant-kind. Somewhere besides here.”

 _With me_ , Charles adds silently. 

“I don’t want to be there,” Erik says softly. “Not now. Not when you…” Erik’s voice trails off but they both know what he wants to say but can't.

_Not when you need me so much._

Charles hates that he needs him so much. Raven’s death has left him reeling, unable to find his footing, and everything that he cared about before seems meaningless. Nothing matters. Yet Erik is here, sitting in the study reading, bringing a plate of food to his room at lunch time, putting on his pajamas on those nights when Charles wishes he’d died alongside Raven and he can’t bring himself to even move.

“Will I ever feel normal again, Erik?” Charles asks, although he doesn’t really want an answer. He just wants someone to know that he’s lost, stuck in an endless loop of sadness that never seems to lift, and some days he can hardly bear it. “Is this ever going to end?”

“I don’t know, my love,” Erik sighs, “I hope it does. I want it to. But if it ends, does Raven go with it? If we stop hurting do we lose her forever?”

_We._

Charles turns to look at Erik and he sees that Erik’s face is tight and drawn. He is not the only one suffering here. Erik loved Raven too and he’s lost her. Charles reaches his hand out, searching for Erik’s fingers, and Erik answers by taking Charles’ hand in his and squeezing it so tightly that it hurts.

“Tell me it will get better, Erik. Even if you have to lie. I need to know that it will get better.”

Erik doesn’t say anything right away. He just stares at Charles, their hands linked together, fingers intertwined. Then he opens his mouth and does exactly what Charles asked of him, because he’s Erik, and he knows Charles needs this.

“It will get better, Charles.”

Charles chokes back the sob that is lodged at the base of his throat and those tears once again prick his eyes. 

“I’m glad you’re here,’ Charles whispers. “I’m glad you stayed.”

He releases Erik’s hand and picks up the mug, lifts it to his mouth and takes a sip. The sun rises higher in the sky, its warm light sliding across the patio, and Charles’ chilled skin feels its warmth. For the first time in a long time he’s glad for the dawn.

  


**v**

**acceptance**

“It’s beautiful,” Erik says, staring up at the statue. The day is unseasonably warm but still Charles shivers with a chill that has nothing to do with the weather. He leans back against Erik’s chest, savoring the feel of his strong arms around him.   
  
“She’s really gone, isn’t she?” Charles says quietly. It’s taken a long time for this knowledge to sink deeply enough into his bones that he can accept it. Raven’s story is finished. She has a beginning, a girl in his kitchen, hungry and scared. She has an end, body riddled with bullets in a safe house, dying alone on a cold floor with no one by her side, and when Charles thinks about this, he hurts. In between she loved, laughed, and fought for what she believed in. Everything that will ever be about Raven Darkholme has come to be.   
  
“She’s never gone as long as we remember her.”  
  
Charles twists to look up at Erik, his eyes shining with tears. How does this man know exactly what he needs to hear?   
  
“She would hate this,” Charles says, smiling a little then turning back around to look up at the memorial he had erected on the mansion grounds. Raven has no grave, no resting place, so Charles decided he would give her something. A place he can come and visit her, talk to her, tell her he misses her.   
  
“I don’t know,” Erik says, “I think she would understand why we need this.”  
  
“We?” Charles says, turning again to look at Erik.  
  
“Yes,” Erik says, “We. I need this too.”  
  
So much has changed. All the ideology that stood between them is gone, washed away by their mutual loss, and sometimes it hurts to know that Raven's death brought them back together. If they had not loved her and lost her Charles knows they would still be standing on opposite sides of the divide.

All because Raven died. Raven died and Erik stayed.

It's been a year, and Erik has just been there, every day, coaxing Charles through his grief step by step, holding him when he felt like he would never reach the end of this. Charles wonders if there ever actually will be an end. Even now there is no way to know that he won’t wake up tomorrow gripped by the sorrow that feels like it's always lurking in the background.

“I love you,” Charles says, staring at the monument. These are words that he rarely speaks these days. There was a time when Charles couldn’t stop saying it. He would tell Erik over breakfast, or when Erik’s lips were trailing down the side of his neck, making Charles gasp. He would say it with a smile or a quick squeeze of his hand. Then they both discovered that loving each other wasn’t enough. Now, in the midst of their loss that never seems to end, loving each other feels like all they have left.

Erik dips his head to whisper softly into Charles’ ear, his breath huffing against Charles’ skin. "I love you too, Charles." He places a soft kiss on Charles’ neck and Charles leans into the touch, his eyes fluttering shut.

Charles wants to say more, to tell Erik that he can never leave him, to make him promise that he will stay by Charles’ side, but Erik has left before and that means he might leave again. They have both moved beyond promises they might not be able to keep. Still, Erik stays and every day Charles grows less afraid about how temporary their situation sometimes feels.

This is Raven’s final legacy: Charles and Erik united. Standing together as they should be. As they should always have been. It took her death for them to finally put aside their ideological differences and choose each other.

At least for now.

The monument rises above them; Raven’s name is carved into the bottom. Her whole name. Raven Darkholme. Below that, Mystique. Above her name is a beautiful angel, arms raised to the sky, her face peaceful, and Charles hopes that his sister has finally found the peace that eluded her when she was alive. Charles will come here every day, will sit at the base and talk to her. He will tell her that he misses her. He will tell her the words he should have told her when she was alive. He will tell her that she will always be missed.

“Shall we go back in?” Erik murmurs, the words rumbling against Charles’ back. “I can make you some tea. We can play a little chess.”

Charles opens his eyes. He pulls out of Erik’s arms then turns and links his arm through the crook of Erik’s elbow. Erik looks over at him and smiles.

“Both,” Charles says, returning that smile and feeling strangely content. It's a good feeling, one he hadn't felt in a long time. “Both sound good.”

 

 **~fin~**   
  


 


End file.
